The dragon's claws dug into the earth, tearing up the baseball field like it was made of paper.
Rain lashed his face, but Michael's legs felt bolted to the muddy ground.
Mason King stepped in front of him, gripping his bat with both hands. The wood glowed faintly, blue veins of light pulsing under the surface.
"Get behind the dugout," Mason barked, not taking his eyes off the beast.
"What—what is that?!" Michael choked out.
The Phoenix Vial's timer blinked in his vision: [00:00:59…].
Mason didn't answer. The dragon roared, its throat glowing orange like molten lava.
FUCK!
Michael ducked as a jet of fire exploded from the dragon's jaws. Heat seared his back, but Mason swung his bat in a blur.
The flames split around them, hitting the ground in waves. The grass ignited, fire spreading fast.
"It's a Celestial," Mason shouted. "Weak spot's the third scale under its jaw. Hit it hard enough, it'll retreat."
"Retreat? How do you know that?!"
Mason's bat glowed brighter. "Because I've killed three of them."
Killed. Three. Dragons. Michael's mind spun.
The guy wasn't just a retired MLB star—he was a freaking dragon slayer?
The dragon lunged, its tail whipping toward them. Mason grabbed Michael's collar and yanked him sideways. The tail smashed into the bleachers, reducing them to splinters.
"Run," Mason ordered, shoving Michael toward the dugout. "You're dead weight."
No. Michael's energy was fading, but he still had seconds left.
I can help.
The dragon's claw swiped at Mason. He ducked, then swung his bat upward. A shockwave erupted, slamming into the dragon's chin. The creature staggered back, hissing.
Michael's eyes darted to the shattered backstop. The baseball he'd thrown earlier lay half-buried in mud. If I can get a shot at its weak spot…
[00:00:45…]
He scrambled toward the ball, slipping in the mud. The dragon's head snapped toward him, eyes blazing.
Oh crap.
"HEY!" Mason roared, slamming his bat against the dragon's side. The dragon twisted, swiping at Mason again, but he rolled under its claws.
Michael grabbed the ball. His left arm shook—every muscle screaming from overuse. But the vial's icy surge flickered one last time.
One pitch. Make it count.
The dragon reared back, jaws widening. Fire gathered in its throat.
"MASON, MOVE!" Michael screamed.
Mason dove sideways as flames engulfed the spot he'd stood on. Michael wound up, ignoring the agony in his shoulder. The vial's power flared—
SWOOOOSH———
The ball left his hand like a missile, aimed straight for the dragon's throat. It shot through the rain, spinning so fast it left steam in its wake.
The dragon's head jerked. Its jaw snapped shut—
CLAAAAANG!!!!!
The ball ricocheted off a fang, deflecting into the sky.
No!
The dragon's tail whipped around, smashing through the announcer's booth. Sparks erupted from severed power lines as Mason rolled to avoid falling debris.
"It's pissed!" Michael scrambled backward as molten scales rained down.
"That's what happens when you provoke a celestial!" Mason charged. His bat glowed white-hot as he leaped onto the dragon's back, stabbing the tip into its scales.
The beast howled, thrashing. Mason clung on, driving the bat deeper like a sword.
"THE JAW!" Mason yelled. "NOW!"
The dragon bucked, throwing Mason into the air. He hit the scoreboard, shattering the screen.
Move. Move!
Michael sprinted toward the dragon's front leg. The creature lowered its head, jaws gaping. Third scale under the jaw.
He could see it—a small, chipped scale the color of rust.
He had no ball. No arm. No power.
But he had his guts.
Grabbing a chunk of broken concrete from the wrecked bleachers, he hurled it at the dragon's eye.
THUNK.
The beast flinched, snarling. Michael ducked under its claw, lunging for Mason's fallen bat. It glowed faintly in the mud. His fingers closed around the handle—
Pain.
Electricity shot up his arm.
The bat's energy burned his palm, but he held on.
The dragon's claw slammed down. Michael rolled, swinging the bat blindly.
CRACK.
The bat connected with the dragon's jaw. A flash of light blinded him. The dragon recoiled, screeching. The third scale splintered, oozing black blood.
"AGAIN!" Mason shouted, limping toward them.
Michael swung harder. The bat's glow surged, burning his hand. The dragon's jaw cracked open, and he jammed the bat down its throat.
BOOM.
The dragon's jaws yawned open, sulfurous heat blistering Michael's skin.
Mason was already sprinting sideways. He snatched a jagged piece of rebar from the wreckage and is now throwing the rebar like a javelin.
It embedded itself in the beast's nostril with a wet thunk.
The distraction worked.
Michael dove behind the shattered remnants of home plate as another fireblast incinerated the pitcher's mound.
His left arm trembled violently now, blisters forming under the Phoenix Vial's decaying magic.
[00:00:35…]
"Kid!" Mason barked from somewhere in the smoke. "Third scale's cracked! Hit it now!"
The dragon's head swung low, searching. Michael saw his chance.
He sprinted through the rubble, the bat's glow intensifying as he neared the beast. Every step sent jagged pain through his overclocked muscles. The dragon's crimson eye locked onto him—a freight train of scales and rage barreling down.
No time to dodge.
Michael planted his feet and swung the bat like a golfer teeing off. The glowing wood connected with the dragon's eyelid.
CLANG.
The vibration nearly dislocated his shoulder. The dragon shrieked, recoiling. Michael hit the mud as a clawed foot stomped down, cratering the earth where he'd stood.
"You're like a damn roach!" Mason materialized from the smoke, hauling Michael upright. "Stop dying for five seconds!"
"Working… on it…"
The dragon reared back, wings unfurling. Rain sluiced off iridescent membranes as it took to the air.
Mason cursed.
"Change of plans." He shoved Michael toward the scoreboard's skeletal remains. "Climb!"
"Are you trying to get me killed?!"
"High ground or barbecue! Move!"
Lightning flashed as Michael scaled the twisted metal framework. The dragon circled above, its shadow swallowing the field.
Mason tossed him the rebar—now glowing white-hot. "Javelin grip! Aim for the wound!"
The dragon dove.
Michael's world narrowed to three things:
The rebar's searing heat blistering his palm. The chipped scale glinting in the dragon's throat. The vial's timer blinking red: [00:00:09…].
He threw.
The projectile screamed through the storm, trailing blue flame. The dragon twisted, but too late—the rebar pierced its damaged scale with surgical precision.
An ear-splitting keen shook the stadium. The beast convulsed mid-air, wings beating erratically.
Mason was already moving. "Finish it!" He hurled the bat like Thor's hammer. Michael leapt, snatching it from the air.
[00:00:05…]
He landed on the dragon's snout, bat raised. The creature's remaining eye widened—an ancient intelligence recognizing its doom.
Michael brought the bat down on the rebar.
BOOM.
The shockwave blew out every remaining stadium light. Dragon scales rained like shrapnel as the creature dissolved into ash and static.
—
[PHOENIX VIAL: 00:00:00]
[SYSTEM OVERLOAD.]
Michael's vision blurred.
Thud.
He hit the mud, unconscious.
The last thing he heard was Mason's curse—